And quhan we cam to the Lapland lone,

The fairies war all in array;

For all the genii of the north

War keepyng their holeday.

The warlock men and the weird wemyng,
And the fays of the wood and the steep,

And the phantom hunteris all war there,

6

And the mermaidis of the deep.

And they washit us all with the witch-water,

Distillit fra the moorland dew,

Quhill our beauty blumit like the Lapland rose,

That wylde in the foreste grew.'

"Ye lee, ye lee, ye ill

womyne,

Se loud as I heir ye lee!

For the warst-faurd wyfe on the shoris of Fyfe

Is cumlye comparet wi' thee.”—

Then the mer-maidis sang and the woodlandis rang,

Se sweetly swellit the quire;

On every cliff a herpe they hang,

On every tree a lyre.

And aye they sang, and the woodlandis rang,
And we drank, and we drank se deep;

Then soft in the armis of the warlock men,
We laid us dune to sleep.'-

"Away, away, ye ill womyne,
An ill deide met ye dee!

Quhan ye hae pruvit se false to yer God,
Ye can never pruve trew to me.”—

And there we lernit fra the fairy foke,

And fra our master true,

The wordis that can beire us throu the air,

And lokkis and baris undo.

Last nycht we met at Maisry's cot;

Richt weil the wordis we knew ;

And we set a foot on the black cruik-shell,

And out at the lum we flew.

And we flew owr hill, and we flew owr dale,

And we flew owr firth and sea,

Until we cam to merry Carlisle,

Quhar we lightit on the lea.

'We gaed to the vault beyound the towir,

Quhar we enterit free as ayr;

And we drank, and we drank of the bishopis wine Quhill we culde drynk ne mair.'

"Gin that be trew, my gude auld wyfe,

Whilk thou hast tauld to me,

Betide my death, betide my lyfe,

I'll beire thee companye.

"Neist tyme ye gaung to merry Carlisle

To drynk of the blude-reid wine, Beshrew my heart, I'll fly with thee,

If the diel should fly behynde.”

Ah! little do ve ken, my silly auld man,

The daingeris we maun dree;

Last nichte we drank of the bishopis wyne, Quhill near near taen war we.

Afore we wan to the sandy ford,

The gor-cockis nichering flew ;

The lofty crest of Ettrick Pen

Was wavit about with blew,

And, flichtering throu the air, we fand
The chill chill mornyng dew.

'As we flew owr the hillis of Braid,

The sun rase fair and clear;

There gurly James, and his baronis braw,

War out to hunt the deere.

Their bowis they drew, their arrowis flew,

And peircit the with speede,

ayr

Quhill purpil fell the mornyng dew

With witch-blude rank and reide.

• Littil do ye ken, my silly auld man,
The dangeris we maun dree;
Ne wonder I am a weary wycht

Quhan I come hame to thee.'

"But tell me the word, my gude auld wyfe, Come tell it me speedilye:

For I lang to drink of the gude reide wyne,

And to wyng the ayr with thee.

"Yer hellish horse I wilna ryde,

Nor sail the seas in the wynd;

But I can flee as well as thee,

And I'll drynk quhile ye be blynd.”

G